


Eyes Wide Shut

by Caroline



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-11
Updated: 2010-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroline/pseuds/Caroline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you love someone you want to sleep with them, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Wide Shut

**Author's Note:**

> [   
> ](http://s10.photobucket.com/albums/a115/xainiver/?action=view&current=eyeswideshutcover.jpg)
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing, I'm claiming nothing. No disrespect or infringement is intended. This is a piece of fan fiction and should be treated as such.
> 
> Warnings: AU, though personally I'd rather say a parallel-time line rather than true AU. Angsty – though no where near some of the levels I can produce.
> 
> Authors Notes: This is where a good chunk of my mini_nanowrimo words went this year and is, I suppose you could say, my first serious fic in this fandom *wry*. Thank you to Caarirose for the amazing beta and hand holding *hugs* and thanks to worlddescending who's answer to my thinky fic type question took my muses somewhere I wasn't expecting; but I think made for a much better story. Title is borrowed from Adam Lambert's Sleepwalker and is returned to him unhurt.

It will always be the sound of sirens and the scent of antiseptic that he'll remember. The rest of it was nothing but a blur, with random sharp moments of clarity – those moments all centering around Adam. Around Adam's fingers against his skin, around Adam's eyes burning bright with emotions he didn't really understand or couldn't make sense of. Around Adam's holding his hand the first time he came to.

There was a moment of pure silence between them before everything went ballistic, and his room was suddenly full of people he didn't know and his mom crying.

He didn't remember the accident. But he did remember the bus turning over, remembered being thrown around, remembered the bright lights of things flashing before his eyes – though not his life. But really he didn't remember the details of it as such, only what he was told.

Adam and the others had filled the rest in when they visited, filling in the gaps here and there. Telling him that they'd had a lucky escape, that their driver was a hero, that aside from him, the rest of them had escaped with bumps and bruises, cuts and scraps. And really his bang to the head had been minor compared to what it could have been.

He'd been out of it for three weeks according to the calendar, with Adam stopping the tour ostensibly for them all to rest and recover, but, more so it seemed so that Adam could spend all day every day at his bedside. Or that's what one of the nurses had told him with a sweet smile, one morning.

He didn't understand it, and still didn't understand it when Adam drove him back to his place rather than to Tommy's home.

“You need to have somebody keep an eye on you.”

That was Adam's only explanation. And what? His friends and family couldn't do that? It wasn't as if he lived on his own and, anyway, he shared his apartment with two other guys and besides he'd be back with Adam on the road in a week or so, they had re-scheduled dates to do. So what the hell? And he said as much, all of which had only drawn a wry smile from Adam that didn't reach his eyes.

“I know all that, okay... but can you just let me do this?”

There had been something about the question that he couldn't say no to, even if it didn't sit quite right. But Adam's smile at his reply had wiped that thought from his mind and, anyway, as that small voice in the back of his head reminded him, it wasn't as if he really wanted to say no to Adam in the first place.

*~*

Two days later he found himself ensconced on Adam's sofa as family and friends buzzed around... gently. That was the only way he could describe it. The afternoon hadn't started out as an open house but it had ended up that way. But as far as Lambert parties went it was gentle – voices low and drinking at a minimum.

He traded stories with band and dancers over bruises and scrapes, before laughing with his and Adam’s mom’s over stories of how he got that scar on his knee and how Adam got an unexpected bruise on his thigh when he should have known better. It would have been embarrassing if the conversation hadn't been so easy, natural and funny.

And while he was sitting on the sofa chatting to the various people that stopped by his little den, he watched the eclectic group of people that made themselves at home in Adam's house. His life at that moment seeming to be summed by watching Mia sat between Brad and Cassidy in a corner chatting with them both animatedly.

And he couldn't help but smile.

He'd gotten used to being at Adam's very quickly and used to Adam's eyes finding him in the room every now and then, checking on him, even if he didn't hover – which he'd half expected him to.

Just used to Adam if the truth be known.

Not that he wasn't used to being in close proximity with Adam already. After all the man kissed him most nights. But this was different. The past couple of days had him seeing Adam in a different light, not just as close friend. But as someone he truly wanted in his life for the long haul. Someone he wanted to grow old with. Or maybe it had always been like that and it had taken something life altering to show him that.

And that thought brought a whole other set of question, questions that were starting to give him a headache. Because at the bottom of it Tommy was straight, he didn't flex at all. Oh he played and joked around with friends for camera or the titillation of his girlfriends but really the idea of actually sleeping with another man did nothing for him at all. Not even a slight flicker of curiosity.

But that didn't mean that he didn't love Adam.

Talk about fucked up.

*~*

He got Dave to bring over his laptop and spent the next couple of days surfing – catching up on the things he's missed, emails etc. But also just reading. Finding out about sexuality and even gender. Trying to piece together the things going around in his head. Trying to work out whether you can have romantic love without sexual attraction. Or even whether it would be possible to 'learn' to be attracted to someone.

None of it really answered his questions, and, probably if he's honest it all confused him even more on one level at least. But on another it helped him work some shit out. Some things suddenly make a whole lot more sense. Even if they do muddy the waters all the more.

And while the sexuality bits don't really sit with him all that well (he understands the words of course and gets Kinsey's scale and all that jazz) but on some basic level it doesn't jell, he can't see how it applies to him and what he feels.

Some of the gender things though, those make a whole lot more sense.

Not that he sees himself as anything other than male and is more than happy with that. But he knows that he's very in touch with the female side of himself possibly even skating a little to closed to the edge if he really cared about things like that – not that he does.

He knows it's what allows him to feel comfortable in make-up and not be to embarrassed when friends dress him up in a skirt and basque and take pictures. It also, probably, has something to do with the fact that he can quite easily admit that another guy is good looking and see what any number of his female friends see in their boyfriends and hook-ups but that doesn't mean he's ever found any of them attractive.

He'll admit it took him a while to accept that side of himself, to not hide it behind heavy metal music and piercings, but he got there and he's happy where he is.

But it still really doesn't answer his question. Still doesn't explain why he could be in love with Adam, and, if he is, wouldn't it follow that he'd want to have sex with him?

About the only thing that really comes out of it, is that he now knows a lot of people don't necessarily think sexuality is fixed, that it's fluid in some form or another, but he has no clue how, or if, that affects him or even if he wants it to.

*~*

The next couple of days just pass in a blur of rehearsals and making sure he still knows everything he needs to know before he finds himself back on a bus again.

And no he's not the only one who's not exactly comfortable with that – that's completely obvious by the way people tend to twitch at every unexpected bump on the road, which seems to be comforting for them all in an odd way. This time Adam's got all the band and the dancers on the same bus and the crew on the other. Though he doubts they're going to stay that way for long, as everyone is tight and Adam tends to encourage the family feeling through out the group - performers and crew alike. Which makes for some unlikely friendships and even relationships – well, as much as you could call on-the-road hook ups a relationship.

Though if Adam's party had been anything to go by, then maybe that idea is about as much rubbish as his supposed straight is.

They're all squashed up together around the table in what goes for a living room of their bus chatting quietly and half watching whatever is on the television. He's got Adam pressed against one side and Sasha against the other, both of whom are having a conversation with each other over the top of his head. Which he's half listening to though his mind has wondered back to his little problem. Seeming to be turning round the same circle again and again, like the proverbial hamster running on its wheel.

Having thought about it, he knows that he doesn't get turned on from kissing Adam, if he did Fever would have him rock hard every night.

It doesn't.

But then again he likes kissing, he always has – he's a touchy feely kind of person and kissing is just an extension of that. Much like Adam, he kisses and on occasion he's been known to make out with people he's close to 'specially if there's alcohol or weed involved. But that doesn't mean a thing, it's just for the hell of it and it's fun.

But like most guys he can get turned on at the drop of a hat, there are enough pictures of him hard on stage floating around to prove that, it’s nothing unusual – most musicians do, a side effect of the excitement of performing. So that doesn't count. And porn is porn whether it's boys or girls or both, it's designed to get you off, so that doesn't count either. And no, being pressed against Adam's body like he is right now doesn't do it either. But what it does do, is warms him inside and out, as though Adam's body heat bleeds into him, it makes him feel safe and secure. It makes him never want to let go, and really he doesn't even know what Adam feels about any of this.

He is still so fucked.

*~*

“Are you alright?”

He looked up from his computer screen at the question, meeting Adam's concerned eyes shrugging slightly. “Yeah, why?”

“You've just been quiet again the last few days, no headaches or anything?”

Smiling he shakes his head waving Adam into the seat next to him. “Nah, just trying to work something out.”

“Anything I can help with?”

It's almost out of his mouth to say 'haven't you done enough?' But he doesn't, it's decision time really and he knows whatever this is _they_ need to have this conversation, or at least a conversation of sorts.

Ducking his head, eyes hidden behind his bangs and colour chasing up his cheeks he mumbles. “I might be kinda falling for someone.”

He watches the smirk slide across Adam's lips as he raises a brow at him.

“Who's the lucky girl?”

He gets the feeling that the colour on his cheeks might have deepened at that question as he negates it with a movement of his hand and knows he's a coward for not actually being able to say the words to Adam, who looks confused for a couple of moments before his eyes open wide in surprise and 'oh...OH' comes out of Adam's mouth, clearly not clicking to who he's talking about. Followed by what seems to be a million questions at a mile a minute. All of which boil down to 'who', 'what', 'when', 'why' and the sixty-four thousand dollar question of 'what do are you going to do about it?'

And he's back to still being well and truly fucked.

So, naturally he avoids the obvious questions and goes for the last one. “I don't know, I know that I have feelings for him, or could have, but no clue as to whether he wants me.” It's only by looking up through his hair and meeting Adam's eyes that he realises he's been unconsciously worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and stops. “And even if he does want me; I'm not even sure I want him.” And yes, he's well aware he's not really making much sense, though from the look in Adam's eyes there is actually a chance he might be.

“Have you told him, talked to him about this at all?”

He has no doubt about the affection and concern lacing through Adam's words, he's known the man long enough now to be able to read those kind of things. But for how much longer those are going to be there once Adam works it out, he doesn't have a clue. Tossing his bangs out of his eyes he meets Adam's gaze head on and waits for the penny to drop. Adam's not stupid, not by a long shot, and he sees it the moment that Adam works it out, a multitude of emotions flit through Adam's eyes and across his face, none of which could really be called encouraging before the shutters come down and he can't read a thing.

“You're kidding me right?”

And his heart plummets to the floor so that it can be stomped upon as he shakes his head unable to look Adam in the eyes any more, his chipped black nail polish suddenly a lot more interesting.

There's a whoosh of breath as Adam's sighs beside him and then silence. The kind of silence that you can hear a pin drop. The all encompassing kind that presses down on you and makes you feel as though you're drowning.

Fingers find his chin and turn his eyes back to Adam's

“Would it help if I said I'm interested but not willing to screw with my band or our friendship?”

Well that kind of helps but it doesn't really, 'cause what the fuck does that mean? Which is something he's sure is written on his face given Adam's wry smile.

“Not much then I take it?”

Adam's smile becomes a little teasing with that question, as he shakes his head before basically asking 'so what now?'

“Once you've worked that out, we can talk again if you want. Or it never needs to come up and this conversation never happened.”

And that has his hackles rising, in what he knows to be a defenses mechanism - striking out before he's struck at. “Well, fuck you very much.” The words snarling past his lips, spat at Adam with a level of venom he doubted Adam had known he was capable of. He doesn't lose his temper often but when he does it's never pretty.

Something dark and extremely unpleasant moves swiftly through Adam's eyes, possibly pain or anger or any combination of both but it's only there so briefly before the shutters came down again, so he could have been mistaken. It wouldn't be the first time.

Adam gets up and walks back down the bus, the silence returning bearing down harder than before if that was at all possible.

But whichever way if he wasn't well and truly fucked before, he's royally fucked now.

*~*

Except even after that things don't change, not really. It's not as if Adam starts avoiding him or anything - he doesn't. But it isn't the same either – not different exactly, just not how it had been before.

It's only when they have a day off, a week or so later, that he has a chance, the time, or any inclination, to seriously think about it. Up until then he'd just been thankful that he hasn't totally screwed things up. But sitting in his hotel room thinking about things, in a quiet moment, he's able to put his finger on some of the things that have changed, it's not all that's changed, not by a long shot – but the ones he notices the most.

Like the kiss in Fever for example, which seems to have gone from over the top - to get the fans screaming - to something that is still outrageous but more intimate, more personal somehow.

The hugs, cuddles and little touches haven't stopped as he'd more than half expected them to, but haven't increased either. But what has changed in them is the little discreet nuzzle that now comes on occasion as well, or the quick press of Adam's lips to his skin - often just on his temple, a fleeting touch that makes it more than a simple hug or need to connect.

It is a million and one tiny little things, nothing that is that different as such and nothing that anyone else would, or could see. But nothing that's the same either.

And he has no clue if those little changes have changed anything. His physical reactions haven't seemed to change, or not the most obvious one certainly – being close to Adam or being kissed by him still doesn't get him hard. But thinking about it he realises there is now defiantly an edge there, something else than just the warmth that tends to bleed into him when Adam is close. Something he hadn't noticed until now and it's not something he can put his finger on either, it is more like an echo – just a touch of something. Like something creeping up on him from behind, starting to want his attention but not quite ready to reveal it's self itself just yet.

Kind of like a healing bruise you just want to touch occasionally to remind yourself it's still there.

Maybe if he gives it time it will make it's own mind up. Though to say he hates the idea of not being in control of something, especially something that is going on with him, is putting it somewhat mildly.

*~*

And then the tour gets mad again and it's all pushed to one side as more important things take over.

A few days later they find themselves in one of those smaller venues, the kind where there are only three dressing rooms and a crowd of several hundred rather than several thousand. All of which means that he ends up sharing a dressing room with Adam. Brook, Sasha and Cam have one. Monte, Issac, Terrance and Taylor the largest one – which leaves him and Adam with what looks like the equivalent of a broom closet surrounded by mirrors with a shower squeezed into the corner. Barely big enough for one, let alone two. But then again it is a million times better than trying to change in the back of a van or in some disgusting and uncleaned toilet in some ratty bar.

The show is frantic and hot. Both physically, and in what he and Adam do on stage as they step up a notch yet again.

And while it doesn't leave him obviously physically turned on it certainly leaves him riding the edge and wanting, no needing, to be with people. Which is why he buzzed through his shower and change while Adam was still doing something back stage and went out to sign, mainly just hang around with people for a bit.

But not before he let Adam know he had the dressing room to himself. The smile of almost relief and thanks he got seemed to untangle one of those small knots inside of him that he's so used to living with these days.

After spending a while chatting and signing he wanders back in to the venue, no real conscious sense of time except that it feels that Adam should have been done by now and should be out with the rest of them. The rest of the band and the dancers being about half way through their rounds of signing and chatting with fans.

Not bothering to knock he sticks his head round the dressing room door and stops dead.

The shower screens have obviously seen better days and are not as opaque as they used to be, or probably hadn't even been that flash to start with. And while he can't clearly see Adam through the glass or perspex or whatever, he can easily make out the shape of Adam's body and what he's doing.

Which is what has his heart running nineteen to the dozen, his palms sweating and his stomach twisting up in knots, half torn between wanting to stay and wanting to give Adam his privacy.

He doesn't mean to watch Adam jerk off, but neither his feet nor his eyes want to cooperate with him. It has this uncomfortable guilty feeling moving through him that mixes with heat that's been pooling in the pit of his stomach all evening, and had dissipated some while he was out signing. Which has now come back full force and is morphing into something else completely, something that sends his blood south and is starting to make him ache and half hard. The edge of his zip starting to bite in just that way he likes and as he watches Adam come, back arching head thrown back into the spray. The sight draws a slight whimper or something from him - a quiet noise of some kind but one loud enough that Adam hears.

“Tommy?”

And as Adam calls his name and he bolts, ducking out round the back of the building and hiding on the bus giving himself time to process, recover and calm down a bit and to realise that maybe Adam didn't sound too pissed off. Time in which Adam comes out to sign if the noise level from outside is anything to go by.

Gathering himself he steps off the bus and goes out again and within a few moments he finds himself tucked under Adam's arm sharing conversations with the fans and signing stuff he'd missed the first time round. Basically it's as though nothing had happened at all, as though nothing different was going on – no, not at all.

Well except for that sly little smirk that Adam keeps giving him every now and then, as though they are sharing the best secret in the world.

And he's right back to being fucked again, but maybe this time for the right reason.

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> Written November 2010


End file.
